Revenge
by sdbubbles
Summary: Hanssen and Serena take revenge when they realise that there are going to be rumours spread about them.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hiya. If I ramble, forgive me. I'm a bit nervous. Basically, as usual, not sure how I came up with this. Your guess is as good as mine! :)**

**Sarah x**

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Serena sighed as she found herself stuck in theatre with Henrik Hanssen, both up to their necks in Mr. Jeffrey's intestines. "So," she said, trying to keep up the bland conversation with him. Even after all these months, the man still hadn't warmed up to her, not even a little bit. "What do you pan on doing about the Darwin CT2 position, since Dr. Valentine has quit and Dr. Tressler, for whatever insane reason, seems to prefer AAU to Darwin?"

"I plan to go through the usual process," he answered, his eyes drifting to her forehead as he said it. Everyone was doing that today – perhaps Eleanor's make up wasn't as effective as they first thought. "Although it seems nobody from within the hospital wants the placement."

"They must think Darwin is a cursed place if you're a junior doctor," Serena snorted, although she did see the reasons why. She looked up to see Hanssen glancing at her forehead yet again. She rolled her eyes and said, "It's a _bruise_, Mr. Hanssen, not the world's greatest medical mystery."

He remained silent about the matter until they finished operating, but then proceeded to corner her after they completed the procedure and were washing up. "A word in my office, please, Ms. Campbell," he ordered her in his usual quiet and calm fashion, never betraying what he was thinking, though she had a fair idea what was going through his over-active imagination.

She rolled her eyes and followed him, neither bothering to change out of their scrubs. When they got to his office and she shut the door behind them, she was surprised when he turned and brushed her hair out of the way so he could see the damage. "Did you get yourself looked over after you sustained this?" he asked her.

"I'm a bloody doctor!" she protested loudly. "I think I of all people would know if I've got a concussion!" It was pointing out the obvious but apparently the silly man needed help seeing what was right in front of him today.

"I was just checking!" he defended himself. "How did it happen?"

"Doesn't matter," she dismissed the question, too embarrassed by the truth to tell him. He would only smirk that irritating, self-satisfied smirk when he heard the stupidity of it, hence why she was keeping quiet about her weekend.

He gave her a searching look, and she realised just what he was thinking. "Did someone hit you?" he asked her.

"I thought your opinion of me is that I _need_ a good slap," she snorted, knowing he didn't particularly like her and struggled to put up with her for longer than a few minutes. She knew she drove him crazy – she even did it deliberately for her own entertainment at times – so she could see why he would think that about her.

"Don't be ridiculous," he retorted. "Ms. Campbell, if you have been assaulted, either randomly or by someone you know, then it would be a good idea to tell someone about it, wouldn't it?"

"So you think I've got a boyfriend who decided to put me back in my corner?" she raised an eyebrow at his obvious theory. She burst out laughing. What else could she do?

"It's not funny, Ms. Campbell," he replied calmly, deadly serious about his question.

She stopped laughing abruptly when she saw the worried expression on his face, though she truly struggled to curb it. "And if that was the case, why would it even bother you?" she asked. "You're hardly my biggest fan, are you?"

"You may seem worldly, sometimes arrogantly so, but I do see vulnerability in you that some people would exploit and use to hurt you."

"That's not answering my question," she stated, refusing to let him off the hook without answering her question.

"I know."

He said nothing more, but she could see it really would have bothered him. She didn't know why, but it would have bothered him. The very thought had him agitated, a word that didn't seem to exist in Henrik Hanssen's vocabulary. It wasn't often she got an insight into his true personality like this; it seemed he did not like the idea of someone hurting her, despite all she had done to hurt him. "Look," she sighed. "Would it make you feel better if I promise you nobody has touched me, in any way, shape or form?" she said, making it clear that, not only was there no assault, there was no man like he had assumed.

"No," he said. "What would make me feel better would be for you to tell the truth for once in your life."

"But it's stupid," she answered. "Honestly!" she added upon seeing the sceptical look on his slim face.

"I'm sure it isn't as stupid as you think it is."

"Oh, it is. It's my own fault, really," she smiled.

"Just tell me," he ordered her, clearly frustrated with her defiance now.

Serena sighed. She did not want to tell him what happened, but if she didn't he would only worry. "Promise me you won't laugh, or take the mick," she said.

"Why would-"

"Promise!" she snapped.

He raised his hands and said, "Alright, alright, I promise!"

"Good," she nodded. "Now. On Friday night, Eleanor's hayfever flared up and she wanted to move her bed from the window to the other side of her room, which, of course, necessitated in moving all her furniture as well. I told her no because I was too tired and it's a nightmare doing it with her _help_," she sneered at the memory of the last time she let Eleanor help move furniture with her – it had ended in an argument. "Yesterday she went to her friend's house and I went up and did it myself, and it would appear from the resulting evidence that you need more than one person to move a six and a half foot solid oak wardrobe."

"So you proceeded to move it on your own even though you knew it was too heavy," he concluded from her rambling. "That does not explain why it looks like you've just about split your head open."

"It fell on me, didn't it?!" she exclaimed. "Hit my head of the corner of the door when I fell. If you think my head's bad, you should see the rest of my body." His face turned from amusement to discomfort and she realised too late just what she had said and how it must have sounded to him. "Sorry," she apologised for how he took that last statement. "I _am_ black and blue though."

He was smirking, so she raised a threatening eyebrow at him and he quickly hid his amusement at her idiocy.

He huffed, though he still looked thoroughly amused and asked her, "And I take it you didn't get checked for broken bones?"

"I think I would know about it if I broke anything!"

"Not necessarily," he replied, his tone frustratingly reasonable and logical. "People walk on a broken leg for weeks and don't realise," he reminded her. "Come on. Let me check, at least."

Serena laughed. "You are kidding."

"I'm not."

"You want me to take my top off in front of you?" she challenged. "I don't think so somehow."

"Either I examine you or you can go down to AAU and Dr. Wilde or Dr. Tressler can take a look."

Knowing that she would never get away with not letting anyone look at it now that Hanssen knew what happened, she grudgingly started to pull off her scrub top with a groan of pain – her whole body was bruised and aching because of the way the doors of the wardrobe had been pressed into her body. The last thing she needed was for Hanssen to know what her body looked like minus clothes. To her relief he immediately went into clinical-mode, gently feeling for broken bones. When she felt his fingers on her spine, shw had force back a shiver, and it was nothing to do with any pain he was causing.

"Don't do that," she whispered, though she was unsure of what exactly he had done to make her body react to his touch.

He ignored her comment and came to stand in front of her so he could inspect the considerable bruising to her abdomen. "You must be in rather a lot of pain," he commented.

"Nothing I can't handle," she replied, dismayed to find her voice hoarse with nerves.

She heard the raised voices of Michael Spence and Arthur Digby go by and decided Digby had messed up, Michael was berating him and the young doctor was attempting, and probably failing, to defend himself.

He felt her shoulders and collar bone and she had to resist the urge to push his hands off and put an end to this; she knew he was right to do it. She hadn't even thought of broken bones until now. "It doesn't-"

The door opened, cutting Hanssen's speech short, and Michael and Arthur stood in the doorway. "Mr. Hanssen, will you please explain to Dr. Digby that-" but Michael cut himself short this time. "Oh," he said, his face shocked and his eyes twinkling mischievously. She was willing to bet that she would never hear the end of this. "We'll...come back later."

"What a good idea, Michael," Serena snapped mockingly. "And let me warn you," she added before he could turn and leave. "If anyone hears of this, I know it will have come from you two and both of you will pay dearly for it," she threatened, leaving their punishments to their own imaginations. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," grinned Michael while Digby tried to look anywhere but Serena's body. "We'll just go now."

They left, closing the door behind them. "That's us sleeping together then," she sighed.

"Excuse me?" Hanssen replied.

"Rumours, Mr. Hanssen," she explained. "I dread to think what the staff will think of this when Digby inevitably lets slip about it."

He handed her her top, obviously finished examining her, and she was sure she saw a glint in his eyes she had never encountered before. "What are you thinking?" she demanded.

"Two can play at that game," he smirked. "I think it's high time we taught everyone a lesson about spreading rumours based on misread situations."

She laughed, pulling her top over her head and straightening it. "What did you have in mind?" she asked curiously. She had never pegged Hanssen as a man with a wicked sense of humour, but she could practically hear the cogs in his head planning out some sort of revenge. She didn't even need to hear his plans to be able to say, "This is going to be _fun_."

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to drop me a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So this is where the plot starts to thicken and Hanssen and Serena start to get devious. Fun fun fun ;) Thanks, as always, to everyone who is reading and reviewing!**

**Sarah x**

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Serena stepped out of the lift and onto Keller, still aching and still wondering whether Hanssen was the man she had always thought him to be. Immediately she received a curious look from Chantelle and sighed, "Come on, then. Spit it out."

"What?" she asked. God, the girl was a hopeless liar. Serena made a mental note to never ask Chantelle to cover for her on anything. She had a suspicion that Chantelle had never successfully lied in her life. Not that that was a bad thing, of course, but lying did come in handy sometimes. Well, to Serena, it did, at least.

"I take it Digby's inability to keep a secret has struck again," she drawled, rifling through a stack of folders.

"So are you and Mr. Hanssen..." the young woman trailed away; Serena had to disguise her smile when she realised Hanssen's plot was falling into place perfectly. They were all incurable gossips, the lot of them. Finding out the truth was one thing; talking to everyone who would listen, as she knew Michael had a habit for doing, was completely another matter.

"What Henrik and I do outside of working hours in our business," she replied, not saying whether they were together or not. "And anyway, he's hardly Mr. Sociable, is he?" she added.

"You don't have to be sociable to-" Michael started to say from behind the computer but Serena silenced him with a look that could have killed the dead all over again. "What?!" he demanded indignantly. "Just because someone's not any good in the bar doesn't mean they wouldn't be any good in bed."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Serena sighed at his immaturity.

"You know I'm right though," he grinned. She just rolled her eyes and let him think he had the right end of the stick. After all, who would bother trying to correct Michael Spence on something so petty?

"Yes, well, you would know all about that, wouldn't you, Michael?" she smiled sweetly at him while Chantelle looked on, too polite to join in and not confident enough to tell them to cut it out.

"Funny, Rena," he beamed, knowing full well that name got on her nerves. She picked out a folder and pretended to read, meanwhile dialling a phone number behind the papers, putting it on speaker and the volume to minimum. She put the folder back down in the place she found it.

"Well, I could quite happily sit here all day and discuss my sex life, but some people have better things to do than gossip," she smiled, leaving Michael and Chantelle, for once, utterly speechless. Indulging in their expressions for only a moment longer, she turned on her heel and stride to the stairs, hastily making her way up them so she didn't miss _all_ the fun.

She quietly slipped into the office, where Hanssen had his landline phone on speaker. He held a finger up to tell her to keep quiet.

"...don't think so," Chantelle's voice came through the speaker. "She didn't seem like she was too keen on him," she reasoned, sounding like she was attempting diplomacy.

"It's Serena," Michael scoffed. "She's not keen on anyone. No, you didn't see what I saw. He had his hands all over her. She wouldn't let _me_ do that, would she?"

"No," Chantelle admitted, "but, well, you just can't picture Mr. Hanssen with a woman. It's hard enough to picture him with a smile."

"God, the man's not _that_ cold," Michael argued. Serena glanced down to see Hanssen's amusement turn to a frown, and she realised that Chantelle's words had affected him. "Unless he's a robot, he's still a warm-blooded man. Though you wouldn't think it half the time."

"Yeah, but Ms. Campbell?!" Chantelle pointed out. "They don't seem to like each other very much."

"Yeah, that's called _acting_," Michael retorted. "Look," he continued, and Serena could just picture him turning to face Chantelle. "He had her topless in his office. I think she had a few bruises actually."

"There's your explanation!" answered Chantelle. It was so like her to try and find the innocence in a situation no matter how insane or intimate or suspicious it sounded and appeared. "He was checking she wasn't properly hurt."

"Not what it looked like," Michael persisted. "They both looked like they were thoroughly enjoying themselves."

Hanssen looked up at Serena just as she looked down at him. "Did we?!" she whimpered, dreading to think how he must have read their faces if he thought that. Not that she was complaining about having Hanssen's hands examine her body. No. No, no, no, no. She could not afford to think like that about the Swede. "I wasn't enjoying myself!" she whispered in her defence. "You were pressing on fresh bruises! How could that be misconstrued as me enjoying having you poking and prodded at me?!" she ranted on frantically, though now not entirely sure if it was the truth or not. "How on_ Earth_ can he possibly-"

She was silenced by a finger on her lips. "Shut up," he advised her so they could listen to the rest of the conversation down on Keller.

"...to mention the look on Serena's face when I opened that door."

"You just caught her topless!" Chantelle protested. "Of course she was going to be a bit uncomfortable about that!"

"You caught who topless?" the deep voice of Antoine Malick asked. _Christ_, Serena thought, _it was like listening to a girls' locker room, the way they went on!_

"Serena," Michael answered. "She and Hanssen looked like they were having a very...productive meeting." The smirk Serena envisaged with that statement made her want to jump through that phone line and strangle him.

"Hold up!" Malick ordered them. "Serena and _Hanssen_?!"

"Yep," Michael cheerfully replied.

"You don't _know_ that, Mr. Spence," Chantelle insisted. "There could be a hundred reasons for Ms. Campbell being in Mr. Hanssen's office with no top on."

"I think I've heard enough," Serena whispered before she left, closing the door gently behind her with a grin back to Hanssen.

As she wandered along the corridor to the lift, she tried to push out from her mind the memory of Hanssen's hands on her spine, and the reaction it had evoked in her body. He was her adversary, her rival. He could not be anything more or less than that to her; they were just teaching the staff a seemingly desperately needed lesson. Nothing more.

When she arrived back on Keller, Michael, Chantelle and Malick fell quickly silent until Michael grinned and said, "Going up to take your reports to the big man?"

"No," she drawled. "I forgot my files," she lied, taking the top one off and hitting the back of his head with it when she passed him. She pulled her phone out of the middle one and hung up on Hanssen, knowing their plan could now be set in motion. Now that Michael was completely convinced she was sleeping with Hanssen, so would half the hospital by morning.

She went down to AAU to check on Harry, Sacha and Mary-Claire in the knowledge that Ric was not on duty, Gemma had been sick and sent home yesterday and Chrissie was on holiday in Australia. "Ah, Ms. Campbell," Sacha said happily. He was about the only person who was happy to see her these days. "How is life with you?"

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and retorted, "Michael hasn't got to you already, has he?!" If he had, he moved like a whirlwind. If only he moved so fast when he was told to do something, then everyone would have been happy.

"Michael?" he asked, and she didn't doubt the genuine confusion in his tone. Sacha, it seemed, was about as effective at lying to her as Chantelle was.

"Never mind," she smiled. "How's things down here?"

"All running like clockwork," he replied with a bright smile. "Which, admittedly, is a bit of a rarity on AAU."

"Don't I bloody know it," she laughed, sitting down and logging onto the computer as she recalled the weeks she spent here against her will, punished for causing trouble with her policies. "How's Dr. Tressler doing? Keeping his nose clean, I trust."

"Of course I am!" a voice from behind her said. "Same can't be said for you though, can it, Ms. Campbell?" he grinned.

"Oh, for God's sake!" she exclaimed in false annoyance, hoping Harry would believe she was a bit upset that he 'knew' what happened earlier. "Who's told _you_?"

"Ran into Dr. Digby at the coffee stand," Harry explained. "Sounds like you had quite the little misadventure in Mr. Hanssen's office," he added.

"I'm going to kill Digby when I get hold of him," she sighed, seeming unbothered by the rest of Harry's explanation.

"What?" Sacha demanded.

"It was nothing of the sort, Dr. Tressler," she denied, though she knew it would only make them think that there really was something more than just two doctors and a few accidental bruises. Little did they know, however, that she and Hanssen were playing them like the muppets they were. "It was a misunderstanding."

"Well, I've heard it called many things but that's got to be a first."

"You and Mr. Hanssen?!" Sacha finally cottoned on.

"No."

"Yes," Harry whispered to Sacha before he walked away from the damage his big mouth caused.

Serena sighed. "Is he winding me up?" Sacha asked her. She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. Lying to and messing Sacha about was never easy, even for Serena; the man was simply too nice.

"Like I said to Michael," she replied, "what Henrik and I get up to, separately or otherwise, is nobody's business."

She left him for the locker rooms, where she carefully got changed back into her clothes. If this was Hanssen's idea of a joke then she was finding she actually liked his sense of humour. And it would serve them all right. Everyone in the place was constantly talking about one another's personal lives behind their backs until a secret became public knowledge.

She hid in her office for the rest of the day, only leaving it to get coffee and to slyly check if anyone was falling for it – and it seemed most people were believing that she was somehow romantically involved with Hanssen. Why they automatically assumed that was the case when neither she nor Henrik had actually said it was true, she didn't quite understand. There was no point in believing something unless the people concerned came out and said it themselves, and telling everyone it was none of their business didn't count just because they took it the wrong way.

The look on their faces when she and Hanssen were done with them, however, was sure to be worth they effort and planning they had put into it. She had never considered Hanssen to be as wicked as she was, but he was proving her wrong in doing this.

At six o'clock, she found herself at the front doors, Hanssen not too far ahead of her. "Goodnight, Henrik," she smiled wickedly at him.

"Goodnight," he replied, though he hid his smile better than she ever could have done.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Sarah x**

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"Are you feeling any better this morning?" asked Hanssen as they halted on the first floor landing, handing her a pint bottle of energy drink and opening one himself. After their unplanned five hour stint in theatre earlier, they both needed the energy and hydration they couldn't get from coffee.

"A bit," she replied. "Still quite sore though. Remind me never to try anything so silly again." It brought a small smile out of him. God, he looked different when he even attempted to smile. He looked human.

Serena smiled at Hanssen as they heard Chantelle and Jonny coming down the stairs from three flights below them. Just as she knew they were at the top of the landing opposite, she said gently, "Thank you, Henrik, for yesterday."

"You're welcome," he replied, as she stretched up to kiss his cheek in thanks, and for the nurses' benefit. They proceeded to travel down the stairs in the knowledge they had left the two nurses stunned at the top of the stairs and pretended to continue normal conversation down the stairs, choosing the topic of AAU, as they ignored the fact Jonny and Chantelle had observed their exchange.

When they got to AAU, Serena had to grin up at him, still astounded by his sense of humour and willingness to play such a joke on those who worked under them. He smiled back and walked away to the lifts to go up to Keller.

"Since when did Henrik Hanssen start smiling at Serena Campbell?" Gemma Wilde whispered to Harry Tressler and Mary-Claire Carter

"Since they jumped into bed together, I assume," Mary-Claire answered in a low hushed whisper. "Did you see the way he just looked at her? I can say with certainty that they are well and truly at it."

"What did you just say, Nurse Carter?!" Serena demanded, paralysing all three youngsters with a single look.

"Nothing," she quickly denied. Mary-Claire was one of the worst gossips in this place, after all, so even if Serena hadn't heard full well what she had said, she wouldn't have believed the young red-head.

Serena swept them all with a second glare and said dangerously, "Something about myself and Mr. Hanssen, I believe?"

"Sorry," she replied, though she by no means sounded very sincere in her apology. "What you two do is up to you. Not for us to comment on." Serena held her stare on the nurse until she relented, "OK, OK, minions back to work!"

"You just do that," smiled Serena, opening her bottle and taking a drink.

She strode to the lift and heard Gemma say, "Oh, God. I hope we haven't landed Mr. Hanssen in the doghouse!" Smiling to herself, Serena got in the lift and took a drink from her bottle of energy drink and pressed the button for the floor.

She stalked onto Keller and barked at Chantelle, "Where's Mr. Hanssen?" Chantelle was startled and couldn't answer immediately so Serena rolled her eyes and added, "Henrik. Where is he?!"

"Um, bed eight," Chantelle answered, looking rather like an insanely cute bunny rabbit caught in some blindingly bright headlights. Serena turned around and saw him coming slowly over to her side of the ward, speaking to Michael as he did so.

She stormed up to meet him and demanded, "Anything else about us you'd like to share with the nurses, _Henrik_?" He pretended to look shocked, and she knew he was steeling himself for what was coming from her. "Shall we tell them what colour my underwear was last night as well?!"

"Lilac, wasn't it?" he retorted calmly and slightly sarcastically to her.

"Ugh! You had better not find this funny!" she shouted. He smirked to himself and she added, "You total _arse_!" She opened the bottle and threw the pinkish-red liquid about Hanssen, soaking him to the skin in sticky, sugary energy drink. "Here was me thinking you actually _cared _about me," she snarled, well aware that the whole ward was watching them now. "Here was me thinking you actually respected me!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Serena!" he shouted over her. "Of course I respect you! Of course I care about you!"

Serena gave a laugh, and the bitterness in it surprised even her. "I don't know who taught you how to treat a woman, but telling nurses with mouths bigger than their brains about your sexual exploits is neither care nor respect!" she roared at him.

He took her by the arms and ordered her, "Calm down! You're completely overreacting."

She yanked her body from his grasp and retorted, "_Calm down_?! Are you serious? You tell Mary-Claire Carter, of all the people in the world, about us and you want me to be _calm_?!"

"Nurse Carter?" he asked, looking confused. "I haven't spoken to her about us at all!"

"Oh, pull the other one," she snapped. She turned to leave but only got a few steps away before she turned back. She launched the empty bottle at him like a torpedo and shouted, probably rather childishly, "In case the pint of energy drink all over you was too subtle, that was me putting an end to this madness. You know, I don't even know why I let myself fall for you! You're cynical, sarcastic, harsh and a downright moron! I should hate you and you make me feel like I'm sixteen. One minute you're the stone man who couldn't care less about me and the next you're genuinely worried about me and you actually care! Make your bloody mind-" she stopped short, realising she had said too much now.

As she looked around, she saw everyone's reactions. Michael looked both shocked and impressed that Serena had laid the law down to Hanssen. Chantelle was standing frozen in the exact spot Serena last saw her in, obviously not foolish enough to try and stop this happening. And Digby had retreated to the most secluded corner of the ward, probably in fear for his life.

Serena turned away, surprised that there was a real lump in her throat as she did so. She really had said a bit too much at the end and, as she stormed away to the lift, she wondered if there had perhaps been a slight element of truth in some of the things she had said towards the end of her little speech. She got in the lift and berated herself for her stupidity. "Pull yourself together, you silly woman. It's an act," she reminded herself.

She let herself into Hanssen's office and sat on the sofa, wondering what kind of situation she had left Hanssen in.

Five minutes later he walked in the door and she burst out laughing at the state of him. "I'm sorry!" she giggled. "I shouldn't laugh!"

"No, you shouldn't," he agreed, but he did so with a smile. "Would you like to leave while I change my shirt?" he asked her out of politeness.

"A body is nothing more than just a body, as you so expertly proved yesterday," she shrugged, pulling out her phone when it pinged with a text from Chantelle: _Where are you?_

She looked up to see Hanssen shirtless before her and reigned in her imagination before it got her in trouble. "Is there something wrong?" he asked her. She must have stared longer than she had realised she had.

"Uh, no," she smiled. "Nothing at all."

He pulled his clean shirt on and held up the soaking wet stained one. "I must say you did a very good job on that," he smirked.

"You should have seen the state my ex-husband's shirts were in when I was done with them," she grinned wickedly. She was joking, but the look of wariness on Hanssen's face was too brilliant to let on that she was kidding him on. "Think they bought it?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. Poor Dr. Digby was afraid for _his_ life, never mind mine."

"Yeah, I saw him hiding," she said, still grinning. "Coward."

"To be fair, you _are_ rather frightening when you get like that," he admitted. "Braver men than Digby would have run for their lives. At least he was able to stay on the same ward as you," he explained, and she saw that wicked glint in his eyes once more. "And other men are insane enough to find it attractive."

She raised an eyebrow and stood up. "And which category do you fall into?" she asked. The question clearly threw him. After all, he probably had never expected her to play the game. And she wasn't going to pass up a game of flirtation with Henrik Hanssen. It would be too much fun to miss out on. "Cowardly or insane?"

"I didn't hide, did I?"

"No," she grinned, taking a step towards him. "No, you most certainly didn't. You stood and took it like a man." She had to force herself not to laugh and diverted conversation away from the dangerous path it was taking. "What did they all have to say about it, then?"

"Well, they certainly were not nearly as talkative as they usually are," he answered. "You left everyone in a state of shock, to be honest. But I think Michael Spence feels slightly guilty."

"He probably thinks his big mouth split us up," Serena laughed. "Your sense of humour really is something if you find his guilt funny," she accused when he looked genuinely amused by the American's inevitable guilt; even Michael had a conscience, after all. Despite herself, she burst out laughing, barely able to believe they had just done that.

"What's so hilarious?" he asked interestedly.

"Just the fact that we're actually doing this," she laughed. Not paying attention, she stumbled backwards and he had to catch her by the wrists. "Sorry," she smiled, rubbing her neck with a grimace. It was still painful, and she suspected she must have pulled the muscle in her neck when she had that accident at the weekend.

He spun her round gently into a chair and started massaging her neck and shoulders and she moaned gratefully when she felt her muscles relaxing and releasing. "Does that feel better?" he asked her, his voice lower and rougher than it usually was.

"Oh, yes," she sighed, her eyes closed as his hands pressed between her shoulder blades. "I thought Henrik Hanssen didn't like touching people?"

She heard a low chuckle from behind and a reply of, "In all logic and fairness, after yesterday, I think you're an exception now."

She had to laugh at that statement. "I have to go and check on Darwin," she sighed, though she could have sat there all day and night. He took his hands off her and let her go and, again, she turned to grin at him at the door before she left.

When she got to Darwin, she found the eyes of Jac, Mo and Jonny following her. "Everything OK, Ms. Campbell?" Jonny asked.

"Just peachy," she snapped, remembering she was meant to be in a bad mood. At that, the three of them quickly returned to their work while she stalked about Darwin, checking everything was in its rightful place and berating them where it wasn't, mainly to keep up the façade of anger up, even though she was having the most fun she had had in years.

The one thing that worried her was that she was getting too close to Hanssen. It was dangerous. She was quickly finding that he was bad for her. She lost her front with him now, all because she had let him take that one step too far only once. She feared that they would teach the lesson they intended to, but pay for it dearly between themselves.

She pushed the idea from her mind, trusting herself just enough to believe she wouldn't allow that to happen. She trusted Hanssen not to take it too far. That was the thing – she trusted each of them as individuals, but she didn't really trust them together. Their caution and fronts were fading, and she couldn't see what was wise for what was attractive.

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**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't know how this ended up so long. Oh well. I hope it works OK :) Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing!**

**Sarah x**

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Serena started her car and sighed after a long day at work – it was now gone nine o'clock and she was exhausted. She looked ahead as she put the car in gear and just about jumped out of her skin when Hanssen was standing there, absolutely still, his head tilted as he looked somewhere below him. Mind you, it wasn't difficult to find something Henrik would have to look down to see.

He signalled for her to cut the engine and, trusting him more than she strictly should have, she did so and got out of the car. "What?" she demanded.

"Is the steering wheel straight?" he asked her.

"Yeah, think so."

"Then I would advise against driving your car tonight," he said, nodding down to the front wheels of her car. Passenger side one was pointed outwards and the driver's side one just about straight...ah. "It would appear there is something wrong with the steering."

"That'll be what that funny noise this morning was, then," she groaned at the realisation her car was thoroughly unsafe to drive. "Looks like I'll have to find another way home."

"It just isn't your week at all, is it?" he replied, and she allowed a wry smile. It most definitely wasn't.

"Taxi it is, then," she sighed, pulling out her phone to dial the number, but no sooner had she put her passcode in than Henrik had swiped it from her grasp.

"I'll take you home," he offered. She stared at him for a moment, wondering briefly where this new side to him had come from. She opened her mouth to decline but she thought better of it. Maybe a car journey alone with him was just what she needed to figure the bloody man and his motives out.

"Thank you," she accepted. She snatched her phone back with a smirk and collected her belongings from the car and locked it, deciding there was little point in calling the breakdown people at this time of the night. It would be less hassle to leave it here and call a garage in the morning to pick it up. Or at least

that's what she was telling herself.

As she got into his car, her phone rang. Eleanor. Oh joy. "Hello?" she answered, forcing back the sigh that threatened to escape.

"Mum," she replied, and Serena could just tell she was after something: she was being too nice. "You know how tomorrow is an inset day?"

"Yes," she said, extremely suspicious now. She noticed Hanssen's smirk and threw a glare at him when she realised she had gone into mother-mode and he had noticed the difference.

"Aaaaaand," she continued. "You know how Cassie, Lily and Jenna are going to see that concert in London tomorrow and Lily's dropped out because she's been hauled in to work instead?"

"No."

"Well, she has and she's offered me her ticket rather than waste it," Eleanor explained hurriedly, almost like she thought the faster she got it out the more chance she had of getting to go. "Oh, please, Mum!" she added. "There won't be any drink or anything and we'll be home by tomorrow night and we'll be in a fit state to go to school."

"And how do you plan on getting there and back when none of you have a car?" Serena challenged.

"Train. Cassie's booked seats for three people." Christ, the girl had an answer for everything! "And, well, the train leaves at half eight tomorrow so it would be easier for me and Jenna to sleep over at her place tonight."

"You're assuming I've agreed to this already," Serena accused. Making plans before asking for permission was a bad habit of Eleanor's, and one Serena hoped she was going to grow out of soon.

"Pretty please?"

"Oh, alright," she moaned. "If you promise to behave yourselves. If I get any reports of bad behaviour about you, young lady, so help me, I will hit the roof. Do you understand me?" She heard the other girls squeal in the background as Eleanor obviously signalled that she was allowed to go. Well, at least she had actually asked this time. An improvement on what usually happened.

"I'll be good. Promise. I might be stupid but I'm not _that_ stupid," she retorted excitedly. "OK, Mum, I'll see you tomorrow night!" Serena rolled her eyes.

"Bye, darling. Love you."

"Love you too," Eleanor replied before hanging up the phone. She wouldn't have been surprised if Cassie and Jenna had packed an overnight bag while she was on the phone. She turned to see Hanssen smiling to himself as he put his seatbelt on.

"What do you find so amusing? Care to share?" she said.

"Nothing," he replied, and she knew from his tone and expression she would not get it out of him. She leaned her head back and sighed, more content in his company than she had ever been before. But she still couldn't for the life of her understand him. Or herself, for that matter. And it was not often she failed to understand her own mind. She didn't understand why she had allowed this to happen. She had not come into this car with him out of convenience or out of some attempt to work him out. She knew she probably would never work him out. But still she was here with him against her better judgement.

After twenty minutes in an almost comfortable silence, she told him which house to pull over at and turned to him. "Come in and have a coffee," she offered. He gave her an unsure look. "Come on. Eleanor and her friends will be long gone by now. They were plotting that all along."

"And you know that...how, exactly?" he challenged her, sitting a little straighter but unable to keep that mischievous sparkle out of his eyes. Maybe it was just the dimming sky and the streetlights only beginning to glow reflecting in his dark eyes.

"I'm her mother. I know when she's plotting."

"She's your daughter and she probably knows how to fleece you by now," he validly pointed out. She briefly wondered what stories he had heard and from whom he had heard them. It didn't particularly matter – it was irrelevant now.

"Stop being silly and come in," she told him before she got out of the car and he predictably followed, though probably unwillingly.

Just as the started up the path, Eleanor, Cassie and Jenna came out the front door and Serena briefly wished the ground would just split open and swallow her up. "Oh, hi, Mum!" Eleanor smiled. She looked around Serena to see Hanssen and added, "Who's this?"

"Mr. Hanssen," she replied. "He noticed something wrong with the car and took me home so I didn't have to drive it."

"Why? What's wrong?"

Serena shrugged but Hanssen said, "Probably either a loose wishbone or a badly worn ball joint." So the man knew his way around a car, then. Another things she hadn't expected from him. He did not strike her as the kind of man to get his hands unnecessarily dirty.

"Sounds fun," Eleanor nodded but Serena knew what Hanssen had said was as good as meaningless to her. Eleanor kissed Serena's cheek and they said goodbye while the three teenagers sauntered off to catch the bus over to Cassie's house.

"Sorry," Serena apologised when they got in. "She can be a bit..." she trailed away, unable to find the words to describe her daughter.

"Excitable?"

Serena laughed. "That's putting it mildly!" She turned to out the kettle on and start making coffee and, when she turned around again to say something, he wasn't there. She sighed and went to the living room and found him holding a picture in his hands. One of Serena, her then-husband and Eleanor as a baby. It was the only family photo she had on display. The rest were kept in a box where they could not cause her any pain.

"You used to have long hair," he commented. She had to smile. Of all the more interesting and more important things to comment on – the presence of a husband for one thing – he chose to speak about her hair. Typical Hanssen. "It suited you. You look happy. You look less angry."

"Maybe I _was_ less angry," she pointed out. "A lot has happened since that photo was taken. But let's not dwell on the past, hmm?" she suggested, taking it from him and gently setting it down next to the phone on the small table where he had found it.

He was looking down at her when she turned, an odd expression on his face. He looked softer than she had ever seen him before. What was he up to?

She went back to the kitchen while he sat on the sofa. This had been a bad idea. She should have just got a taxi. After all, she had realised today that she could not be trusted alone with Henrik Hanssen. She would only do something she would later regret.

This game they were playing did not help. It took planning and lots of time in each other's company. Why didn't that bother Hanssen? Normally, he could not stand her company for more than a few minutes, so why was he subjecting himself to her? Her head was spinning with questions only he could answer.

She was confused by the time she returned to the living room, not helped by the fact Hanssen looked suddenly nervous. "No need to look so frightened," she smiled. "I haven't poisoned it."

"Sorry."

"You're not very good at this, are you?" she guessed from his demeanour and obvious apprehension. "I don't bite, you know."

"I think there are people who would disagree."

"I know."

Despite his nerves, that flash of mischief was in his eyes again as he teased her about how other people viewed her. He was infuriating to try and understand. She wanted to strangle him. In fact, if there wasn't that strange attraction she had to him, she would have done already. "How's your back?" he asked her, probably to break the heavy silence between them.

"Haven't checked what state it's in," she shrugged. It was still aching, and he must have known this because his face turned into an expression of hopeless amusement at her lack of care towards her own body.

"Do you mind if I check?" he replied. She turned around and lifted the back of her shirt, feeling his fingers tracing the bruises lightly. She was suddenly very warm, and she had to stop herself jumping away from him. She shouldn't have felt so attracted to him in that moment, but she couldn't help it. It was different, having him in her own home. She didn't know why. It was just different from when he had examined her in the office.

His fingers lingered only a moment too long against her skin, and she smiled to herself. "It looks like it's healing fine."

"You do realise we have to show everyone we hate each other now?" she asked as she turned and pulled her shirt down. "Although that shouldn't be too difficult for you. It'll just mean you won't have to hold back."

He stared at her for a moment and smiled. "What?" she demanded, annoyed by his reaction.

"Do you actually think that?"

"What?"

"Do you honestly believe I hate you?"

"Yes."

He laughed quietly. It was the first time she had heard him laugh, truly amused with no real cynicism or sarcasm. "Oi! What's so funny?!" she asked him.

"If I hated you, Ms. Campbell," he began, and she noticed he had gone back to her surname rather than her first name again, "I wouldn't go toe-to-toe with you when you wind me up. I wouldn't let you wind me up, actually. I wouldn't even give you time of day if I hated you. I don't waste my energy on people I hate."

"Oh," she said. It was all she could say, really; she could not fault the logic in what he had just said but still it sounded odd to her, a person who went out of her way to get one the nerves of those she took a dislike to. "So you _don't_ hate me?"

"No, I don't."

She took a drink of her coffee to hide her smile when he said it. She didn't want to look like a fool in front of him. Glad he didn't hate her, she leaned back into the sofa, wondering what went through Hanssen's mind. She couldn't work him out. Every time she thought she had him figured out he turned the tables, showing more of his sense of humour and logic, showing another small piece of him for her to dissect and examine.

She was conscious of his proximity once more, and was almost relieved that, after twenty minutes, of chatting about things that mattered very little, he announced that it was time for him to get home. She saw him out and went straight to bed.

She was reminded of that shot of heat his touch sent through her earlier and concluded to herself, "I'm a bloody moron."

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**Hope this is alright!  
****Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me your thoughts!  
****Sarah x**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello again! :) Well, I'm back at work, thank God. One day stuck at home is more than enough, thank you very much! Been replacing springs, CV joints and differentials all day :D thanks again to everyone who is reading and reviewing!**

**Sarah x**

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Serena sighed and looked at the shift rota she had kept on her phone. Keller. All day. With Hanssen. Now, this could be entertaining.

She stepped onto the ward and was immediately approached by Chantelle. "Are you OK?" she asked. She didn't have the heart to tell the young nurse to go away and leave both her and the subject of yesterday's incident alone.

"Absolutely fine," Serena replied. Chantelle obviously didn't believe her so she added, "I'm a big girl. I can deal with my boyfriend turning out to be a moron."

"Even when you have to work with him?"

"The hospital does not come to a standstill just because Hanssen and I have fallen out. We spend more time on bad terms than good. We just don't let the children see Mummy and Daddy fighting. It's not good for them, apparently."

She left Chantelle and, when she looked back briefly, she realised she had left the poor young woman in a daze and probably worrying about surviving the next eight hours on Keller with an 'annoyed' Serena and Hanssen. She only realised now that the prospect was not exactly tempting to Chantelle or anyone on the same shift as them.

When she returned from her office, Hanssen was already there, talking to Malick and blatantly avoiding her gaze. Probably because that was what was expected of him, but she couldn't help feeling a bit off about it.

When he came to give Chantelle some instructions, Serena whispered when Chantelle left, "Do you _have_ to do that?"

"What?"

"Deliberately avoid looking at me."

He stared at her for a moment before he smirked, "Is that the paranoia setting in already, Ms. Campbell?" He had a point. She was paranoid; she was forgetting the name of the game. Of course he was supposed to avoid her gaze.

She felt like a moron for the way he looked at her and was just glad it was Michael's day off and he wasn't here to wind her up. This joke had been a bad idea; it was already messing with her head. "Are you alright?" he whispered to her, sounding genuinely concerned. "You look very pale."

"I'm fine," she answered. She jumped slightly when her mobile rang, and she answered it without bothering to see who it was, just to get away from Hanssen before she said the wrong thing. "Hello?"

"Hello," a young-sounding man replied. "You're Serena Campbell, aren't you?"

"Depends who's asking," she retorted suspiciously, thinking that it was either some stupid cold call or that Eleanor had somehow broke her own record and already got herself into trouble.

"No need to worry," the man laughed. "Bridge Street Garage. We've got your car?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, although she had no idea how they had her car. "Did you find out what's wrong?"

"Ball joint's worn, so we'll stick a new track rod end on it and it should be good to go," he said, sounding happy and chirpy. _Must be an easy job_, she thought to herself. "Should cost about...forty quid? Tenner for the end, tenner's labour and twenty to do the tracking?"

"Tracking?" she asked, not knowing what that meant.

"Yeah. Aligning the wheels so they don't kill you. It's the wheels being out of line that makes the steering go all wonky," he explained. "It can cause fatal accidents, actually. You're very lucky your husband noticed and stopped you driving it."

Serena turned around and raised a threatening eyebrow across the ward at Hanssen. So, he was her husband, was he? _Like hell_, she snickered inwardly. "Yes. I'm very lucky."

"Anyway. Forty quid, should be ready to pick up whenever you and your husband clock off work? Sound OK?"

"Just fantastic," she smiled too sweetly, directly at Hanssen. "You're a star."

"Good good," he replied, and they hung up at the same time.

She strode up to Henrik and barked, "A word, Mr. Hanssen," before she walked ahead of him to the empty lift space. "So," she rounded on him. "You called the garage for me, which is probably just as well since I completely forgot," she admitted. "What I want to know is why they think we're married."

"The man was young. A second year apprentice. He assumed we were married and I didn't bother correcting him," he explained calmly. Serena, unimpressed, did not speak or give any indication that he was by any means off the hook. "It was his first recovery trip. He was nervous as it was, and I wasn't going to make him feel any worse!" She glared at him. "I didn't think it was significant."

"That's because, I assume, you've never had the misfortune of being married," she snapped. "Am I right?"

"You are correct, yes."

She could have strangled him, but instead settled for jabbing his chest with her finger and saying, "You are an idiot."

"So I've been told," he retorted, albeit with the world's most irritating and enticing smirk. She briefly wondered who else had called him an idiot but quickly concluded any woman he had ever got even remotely involved with was bound to take such a view on him.

She met his eyes for a moment, oddly glad he was getting some kind of kick out of all this. She liked seeing him having fun for a change. And, bloody hell, was he having fun; she'd never seen him so alive.

"Apparently, _we_ are picking my car up when we get off work," she informed him what he likely already knew. She deliberately brushed past him, grinning when she felt him tense at her touch. With a sense of satisfaction, she wandered back onto the ward hiding her smile and remembering she was meant to be furious with Hanssen. It was difficult to act furious when she could remember that last night she had been so attracted to him.

How long could they play this game before it stopped being a game?

Malick approached with an air of caution about him when Henrik passed them, and asked her, "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, fine," she dismissed. "Mrs. Cole, bed-"

"Serena," Malick cut across her unexpectedly. "You just split up with Hanssen in a quite brutal way in the middle of the ward. Do you honestly want me to believe you're fine?"

"We're adults, Malick, not adolescent schoolchildren."

"Still..." he said. "I've never seen you lose the plot like that."

"Is this one of those 'supportive friend' speeches?" she guessed. "Making sure I'm not completely off my head?"

"Oh, we already know you're off your head," he grinned, and she had to smile at his needless attempt at cheering her with via the medium of impudence. "But that was one nasty break-up." She turned and glared at him, prompting him to finish, "If you're looking for a drinking buddy, you know where I am, yeah?" She nodded with a smile and watched him walk away. If she didn't know him better, she would have thought Malick was feeling just a little bit guilty knowing he had gossiped with Michael and Chantelle. But, of course, he wasn't stupid enough to admit he had been a part of it.

She took the top file and looked around to find the right patient. "Ah, Mr. Watt," she smiled. "Back again?"

"Just to see your lovely face," he replied with a grin. She ignored his comment; this man had a habit of flirting with her and she didn't much like it. She didn't exactly know why she didn't like it. After all, there were men she actively flirted with herself.

"Well," she said, reading over his notes. "Looks like theatre again. Mr. Hanssen and I will be operating I think. Hopefully this will be the last time," she explained. She beckoned Henrik over and let him read for a moment before asking, "What do you think? Theatre?"

"Yes, I think so," he agreed.

"OK, then," Serena said. "We'll find you a slot and get you sorted out."

Mr. Watt smiled and replied, "You should never trust a beautiful woman with a knife," and she could have sworn she felt Henrik tense behind her for a second time this morning. She just smiled uncomfortably and walked away, acutely conscious of Hanssen behind her. She turned around only to see him hastily occupy himself. Was that jealousy in his eyes or was it amusement? She could never really tell. He was a puzzle she was having trouble piecing together.

"He likes you."

Serena jumped and turned around; Chantelle was all bright beauty and sparkling smiles. "Christ, Chantelle!" she exclaimed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. You should be a bloody stealth ninja!"

"Oh, no," she smiled. "I talk too much for that!"

"Yeah, I think we'd noticed that," she retorted, though she smiled warmly at Chantelle; the girl never meant any harm, which was refreshing to see. It was rare to find a person as genuinely decent as Chantelle Lane. "What were you saying?" she added when she realised she had not heard what Chantelle had said in her fright.

"He likes you," she repeated. Serena just laughed. "I'm serious! He doesn't like the way Mr. Watt treats you."

"Neither does Malick," Serena pointed out fairly. "And we can say with absolute certainty that it's not because Malick _likes_ me."

She watched Chantelle consider this for a moment and build her argument. It was fascinating to watch the process of facial expressions she went through: confusion, contemplation, realisation and finally decision. She finally replied, "Mr. Hanssen doesn't smile unless he's with you."

Serena looked over at Hanssen and was hit with the uncomfortable recognition that Chantelle was right. It was rare for Henrik Hanssen to smile, even in sarcasm and cynicism, but when he did, it was almost always in Serena's company, and Chantelle hadn't even seen them alone together. She looked him up and down. There was something about his stance, his uprightness, that made her think Chantelle might not have got it so wrong.

"You know he didn't mean to upset you," Chantelle reasoned. "He's...well...he's just silly sometimes," she admitted with a smile.

"That doesn't excuse what he said to Mary-Claire."

"He didn't tell Mary-Claire anything. I asked her and she swears she hasn't spoken to him about you," she explained. "I think it was just rumours, really."

Serena didn't say anything more, and she felt like this was ceasing to be a joke. It was still funny to watch them all wonder if they had caused this, and realise that Henrik had not in fact spoken to Mary-Claire, but they were getting to be too close for comfort. She had to put some distance between them before she did something that both she and Henrik would regret. They were only just beginning to get along; she didn't want to throw any spanners in that fragile and finely-tuned engines.

She let Chantelle wander away to get back to work, and found herself fixated on Henrik as he worked. She realised suddenly that he intended to take her to the garage tonight. Why else would have called them himself and then allowed an apprentice to mistakenly believe Henrik and Serena were married? What the bloody hell was he playing at?!

Looking away, she was almost embarrassed by how much his actions were starting to bother her; she was his colleague. She was barely even his friend. But he was blurring the lines, and she couldn't stop herself from searching frantically for the boundaries in case she crossed them. She didn't know why he was getting to her so much.

In all fairness, he had always got to her, but not like this. He had never had her so discomposed before. And now she couldn't figure it out, she was wondering...was she dreading tonight or was she looking forward to it? She couldn't tell.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: HELLO! Apparently the fact I can walk and work in a garage after Monday's little mishap makes me a "medical mystery." Oh, goodie ;) Anyways, thank to everyone who is reading and reviewing - it's always much appreciated!**

**Sarah x**

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After lunch, Serena felt Hanssen's presence behind her. She didn't need to see him to know he was there; unlike most people, she could tell when he was looming behind her. She turned and waited stonily for him to speak. "Why don't we sit down later and talk all this through. I'm sure it's just a big misunderstanding," he said.

She smirked and retorted, not bothering to keep her voice down, "Or, alternatively, you can go to hell and never come near me again." She went to walk away but was taken by surprise when she felt his hand tight around her wrist. Him touching her had not had any place in their plans. What was he up to?

She spun back around to face him. "Is there something else?"

"Serena," he sighed. "I can assure that I have not talked to Mary-Claire Carter, and I have no idea how everyone found out."

"You and your big gob, that's how!" she half-shouted, slamming her files down onto the desk in irritation.

"You're missing the point," he replied, glancing at Chantelle briefly, who was busy on the phone but was probably listening to the consultants at the same time in case she had to step in. "I haven't _told_ anyone."

"Then how-"

"I have no idea."

Serena just forced her wrist free of his grasp and strode away. He was deviating from the plan, saying and doing things they had not agreed on. She should have known he was going to do this. She shouldn't have trusted him not to wind her up; it was, after all, almost a hobby to him. And yet she found herself playing along anyway, and enjoying herself, for that matter.

She left the ward, just to get away from him and clear her head and started to wander in the general direction of Darwin. She didn't really know why she was going to willingly subject herself to the three amigos, but it was better than sitting on Keller and confusing herself. That, and Darwin needed checked on daily anyway, but most of the staff up there were less than stable.

Stepping onto Darwin, she saw Jac stealing food from Jonny's plate while Mo was clearly losing the will to live around them. She smiled to herself and said, "Please tell me there isn't a crisis here today."

"Nope," Mo smiled. "All is well in the world of Darwin."

"Well, there's a first!" Serena grinned, taking a fork from the desk and taking a mouthful of Jonny's curry. "Hmm, that's _good_!" she told him. "Did you make that?"

Jonny eyed her suspiciously. "Who are you and what have you done with Serena Campbell?"

Jac and Mo looked equally unnerved by Serena, but she just shrugged and stole another forkful of Jonny's curry. "Um, is everything OK, Ms. Campbell?" Mo asked cautiously as Serena started her checks.

"Yep," she smiled, deliberately making them nervous. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Maybe because you allegedly threw half a litre of Red Bull over Mr. Hanssen yesterday?" Jonny suggested carefully, obviously unsure of whether or not to talk about it. "Apparently you went a wee bit loco on him."

Serena smiled again, turning around to face him. "You know the first thing they tell you when you get divorced is not to bad-mouth Daddy in front of the kids?" she asked. "Don't make the kids pick a side."

"We're not gonna pick a side!" Jonny insisted.

"It's stupid really," Serena replied. "We were meant to be keeping everything under the radar and then he went and told half the hospital about us. That's why I ended it. Why be with a man you can't trust?"

"Well, that's us told!" Mo said.

"It is indeed," Serena answered, finding everything was in its place. Perhaps yesterday her bad mood had encouraged them to be more diligent. "I should never have let myself become involved with him in the first place. He's an idiot."

"Funnily enough, we worked that out for ourselves," Jac said. "Intelligent man, but he's still just your typical, silly, moronic man." Serena had to laugh both at Jac's summation and Jonny's indignation at her stereotype of the males of the human race. "Although he _is_ more thoughtful than most. I can't see him blabbing to anyone if you asked him not to."

"Well, he has," Serena said, sounding resigned to the fact that Henrik was an idiot.

"Wait," Jonny said. "I thought Mummy wasn't supposed to bad-mouth Daddy to the kids?" Serena felt her face go red when she realised she had just contradicted her own statement and had in fact said some unpleasant things about Hanssen in front of them.

"Yeah, well, you two better not do that either," she glared at Jac and Jonny, deflecting their attention away from the subject of Hanssen and how she felt about him. Mo looked at Serena in shock for a second and then started laughing.

Serena grinned triumphantly at the disgruntled looks on Jac and Jonny's faces as Mo tried to curb her laughter. "Yes, I heard," she supplied for them before they even asked her. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," they muttered together.

Satisfied she had embarrassed them into submission, she looked around her and said, "Well, Ms. Effanga. It looks like you were right: all _is_ well in the world of Darwin."

"We do try," grinned Mo. "Not a hair out of place. We learnt our lesson yesterday."

"Oh, I wasn't that bad," Serena dismissed.

"Oh, you were," Jac answered her back as she started eating Jonny's curry. He looked up at her in mild disgust that he basically had no food left, and she remarked, "Don't," as she put a finger over his mouth when he went to tell her off. "You're feeding your kid."

Serena laughed and said, "Well, I'll leave you lot to it then." As she walked away, she vaguely heard the three start bickering; she knew Jac and Jonny were not together anymore, but she still saw that playful spark between them. She was certain that, by the time their baby was born, they would be back together again. The attraction was both strong and obvious.

By the time her shift finished, she had the inexplicable fluttering in her stomach. She had no reason to be nervous. Yes, Hanssen had allowed the garage to think they were married – and she intended to make sure they were set straight on that matter – but she had, after all, had him in her house last night and broke down the barriers between them. She had even ascertained that Henrik did not in fact hate her.

But still she felt nerves rippling through her body as she waited outside for Hanssen, having decided to leave just before him to avoid questions if anyone realised she was leaving with him when she was meant to hate his guts right now.

She pulled out her phone and started aimlessly flicking through her email and the internet, not really paying attention to what she was reading but killing time in the process. A text from Eleanor came through: _Everything OK. Love you xxx_

_ Good. Love you too xxx_, she replied.

When she looked up, Hanssen was standing over her silently. He said nothing but unlocked his car and got in, waiting for her to follow him. Slightly bewildered, she got in the car and put her seatbelt on. She didn't speak. She didn't really know what to say to him. She couldn't understand this; since when did she feel nervous around Hanssen?

"Cat got your tongue, Ms. Campbell?" he asked her quietly. She shifted in her seat, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"No. I just don't have anything worth saying," she said, making it up as she went along.

"You always have something worth saying," he contradicted her.

"Maybe I've run out of things to say."

"Oh, I don't think so. We would have known about that if it were true." She turned around to see an impudent smirk on his face. "The day Serena Campbell runs out of things to say will be the day the Earth stands still."

Her immediate reaction was to gasp in feigned shock and slap his chest playfully with the back of her hand. He tensed up once more at her touch and she instantly felt guilty for forgetting that he had 'issues' with people touching him. She didn't know where his hatred of being touched originated from, but now that there was no purpose to it and they were not playing their game, he didn't like it. "Sorry," she apologised for her childishness.

"Don't worry about it," he said, barely audible to her. She studied his face carefully, but he had gone deadpan on her again. Why did he always do that? Just when she thought she was getting somewhere with him, he clammed up again. It was so frustrating to her.

She couldn't help it. She needed to know what made him like that. "Why don't like me touching you but you're fine with touching me?" she asked. He didn't answer so she added, "Is it a self-control thing?" He still didn't give her an answer and she decided to push her luck and admitted, "You know, I do care."

That confession made him finally break his unwavering gaze from the road to glance at her.

"Is it really so hard to believe that someone cares about you?" she quietly said. From his expression, it obviously was that hard to believe. She sighed and decided to give it up for now; she wasn't going to get anything out of him.

They sat quietly together until he pulled over at a garage. He went to get out and she told him, "I'm perfectly capable of picking a car up."

"I know," he replied. She rolled her eyes when he got out with her anyway.

"Ah, you must be Henrik and..." the middle aged man in a grey Mitsubishi boiler suit closed his eyes, trying to remember her name. "Serena!" he said, clicking his fingers. "Yeah, Stan told me to look out for a tall guy and his wife. Car's over there, all fixed up and ready to go."

"I'm-" she began, but thought better of getting uptight about it. It was no big deal, really, was it? "Thank you," she settled for.

"Lad did a good job," the mechanic said. "Buggered off home now. Bright spark of an apprentice. Best we've had in years."

She went back to the office with them and paid, and got her keys and the invoice back. "Thanks," she smiled as she left with Henrik. "You know," she said as they stepped onto the street, "that didn't cost half as much as I thought it would."

"It's not that big a job," he reminded her. A boy on a BMX was riding down the street, and Serena looked around her at the pinkish sky. "It's not like he had to-"

"Watch out!" the boy shouted, and Serena's first reaction was to push Henrik back into the wall and shield his body until the boys passed; it occurred to her that he must have taken the brakes off his bike.

She looked up and saw Henrik's face. "Sorry," she said, slightly unnerved by the breathlessness in her voice. "He was going to run us over."

"Yes, I _had_ noticed," he retorted. She only noticed now that her body was still pressed firmly against his. She looked at his mouth briefly and instantly wished she hadn't; she wanted to kiss him. She felt the heat of a cold man's body against hers, his breath slightly uneven, and she realised now there were only inches between their lips. She wanted to close the gap but didn't have the confidence. "Ms. Campbell," he said gently, his voice rough, deep and quiet. "You're standing on my foot."

She looked down and saw her heel digging into his shoe. "Sorry!" she apologised for the third time this evening. She stepped back and let him free. "I should...I should go," she said, smiling rather nervously at him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replied as she got in her car, feeling like the world's biggest moron. Whatever she should have felt when she threw Hanssen out of the way of that bike, it was not the heat and fluttering that had pulsated through her body. She should not have been bothered by having her body against his, and she definitely should not have wanted to kiss him.

"Get a grip," she ordered herself. "Get a _bloody_ grip."

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
****Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hiya! Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed :) I'm not so sure about this chapter but I hope it works out!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

It was when Serena set foot on Keller at ten past nine to see Michael arguing quietly with Hanssen in the corner that she realised this game had split her life down the middle. At work, she outwardly hated Henrik, but away from work, where his kind nature was coming to the surface, she found she didn't even know what she felt for him. She quickly pushed from her mind the memory of last night. She had spent the last sixteen hours pretending it had never happened.

She stalked down the corridor to her office, deliberately forcing herself between Michael and Hanssen, brushing the latter's chest equally deliberately on the way past. She smirked to herself when she heard his breath catch ever so slightly. Oh, how she loved to make him uncomfortable.

When she returned without her bag and coat, they had dispersed themselves to different beds and Serena quickly understood that, whatever they had been debating, they had agreed to disagree.

"Ms. Campbell," Hanssen's voice came up behind her. "Please remember that we have to discuss the report you will be submitting to the Board."

"First I've heard of this," she snapped. "You should give people more than five minutes' notice when you're going to haul them into your torture chamber. Some people need time to prepare for your idea of fun."

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Oh, I think you'll find I do know how to have a good time. You might even find it..._fun_."

In a state of shock, she looked around to see him smirking at her, that mischievous glint in his eyes again. Was he _flirting_ with her?! "What the bloody hell are you playing at?" she whispered back.

He just smirked yet again and said, "Ten o'clock, Ms. Campbell. My office." When he left her, she was startlingly aware that his hand brushed the small of her back. He had done that on purpose. He must have figured out she was confused about him and was now using it to wind her up. And now she had to sit in his office and discuss reports while her mind ran away.

"Any more dramas while I was off work?" Michael asked.

"No," she answered curtly, making it clear that he was still in the bad books.

"And how do you feel about Hanssen now?"

"Well," she sighed, flicking through the apps on her iPad until she found the right one. It wouldn't load so she kept pressing the icon, only becoming more and more annoyed by it. "Let's just hope he never ventures into heart surgery, since he doesn't seem to care very much if he breaks them," she said, completely without thought as she became irritated with her iPad while it froze on her. When she realised what she had said, she looked up at a slightly shocked Michael and added, "Not that he's hurt me. It was a meaningless fling. That was just a figure of speech."

"Yeah, right," Michael dismissed, clearly not believing her. "Was it-"

"Just leave it, Michael," she warned him, returning her attention to her stubborn iPad.

"But-"

"Drop it!"

She felt Michael's eyes boring into her and reminded herself from now on to watch her mouth to avoid this kind of situation ever again. "Does Rena need a hug?"

"No. _Serena_," she emphasised her proper name, "needs you to go away and stop being annoying."

He ignored her and, against her will, put his arms around her in an almost brotherly fashion, squeezing her tight. "Hanssen's a moron if he thinks you're not worth keeping quiet for," he assured her.

She was surprised that she didn't want to push Michael away. He was perhaps the only man she knew who was straightforward with her, and she did trust him more than she did Hanssen. Of course, she couldn't view him as anything other than a friend. But as friends go, he was good to her.

"You go to that meeting and you show him he's not gonna beat you," Michael ordered her. "Got it?"

"Yeah," she smiled, wriggling free of his embrace. "I'll get over it. I'm just pissed off with him." She looked at her iPad and the app she had been losing her cool with was now running fine. God, she hated these things sometimes.

"You've got every right to be," admitted Michael. "Even he should have more sense than to tell people about you two being together if you're not both happy with it."

"Yep. Well, that's the end now. Hopefully I've learnt my lesson." She checked her watch and sighed. "I'd better go. You know what he gets like when people show up late."

He laughed and she left, stopping in her office to pick up the documents concerned and her nerves. His attempt at flirting had derailed her confidence in the idea that this was just a game; even last night, pressed up against him and desperately fighting the instinct to kiss him, she had believed they were just having fun at the expense of the rest of the staff's conscience.

But now she was not so sure. Now she saw him messing with her mind. He flitted freezing her out and flirting with her too easily. Perhaps they were playing the staff, but _he_ was playing _her_. And this, she reminded herself, was why she didn't trust them alone together. He could be as sneaky as her, and she wasn't sure if he felt the same as her or if he was just getting some revenge of his own for the admittedly terrible way she had treated him.

She knocked lightly on his door, half-hoping he wouldn't hear her and she would be saved, but, Hanssen being Hanssen, he called, "Come in, Ms. Campbell!"

She took a breath and hoped that he did not say or do anything to heighten the silly attraction she was feeling towards him. She opened the door and quietly stepped into the office.

She sat down cautiously and all went as normal, talking about the reports and the Board – though it was the most boring subject on the planet to her – while he gave her a strange look every so often. "Is there something wrong?" she finally asked after the seventh time he threw her said look. "Is my hair crooked or something?"

"No," he replied quietly and, seemingly, rather embarrassedly as he looked down at the desk.

"Right," she sighed, slamming the pile of papers down. "Let's get this sorted. What are you up to?"

"I thought you knew what the idea of this game was?" he asked.

"Are you being intentionally dense?" she demanded. But no. Of course her wasn't; he was Henrik Hanssen and he probably had absolutely no idea about the effect he was having on her.

She stood up and started pacing as she attempted to reign her temper, and her other instincts, in. "Serena, calm down," he said quietly. She turned and looked at him; an inexplicable wave of calm fell over her as he said it. He stood up and walked up to her until there was less than a foot between them. "What is it that's bothering you?"

She groaned, realising she had to give him a reason for her agitation. "Look. Last night..." she said. "Last night shouldn't have gone the way it did. I shouldn't have touched you. I shouldn't have pushed you out of the way of that bike..." she trailed away.

"Yes, because I would be much happier had the boy hit me with his bike," he retorted. "That doesn't bother me and it shouldn't bother you either, which means it's something else." She felt him too close to her again, and felt her breath catch in her throat as she tried to invent a reply that would have made some kind of sense.

She whispered, "This was a bad idea. Winding them up. It was a bad idea. I..." she struggled for both air and words as he took a tiny step towards her, closing the gap between them ever so slightly. "I can't...I can't handle this...being so close..." she tried to explain. "I don't know how to explain," she finally gave up.

She fought the urge to step back when he moved towards her. "Henrik," she whispered. Their bodies were so close together that they were touching. "This is exactly what..." she said. His fingers brushed her forehead lightly as he moved her hair away from her face. "...what I'm talking about. I'm going to end up making an idiot of myself. I'll end up doing something stupid."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Stupid?"

"I can't...trust us," she explained. "I trust us each individually. But I can't trust myself not to..." she tried to find the right way to put it. "...not to cross the line."

His hand rested on her neck, his thumb on her cheek, and she felt like her heart was trying to burst through her ribcage. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing and her heart rate, making sure she could remember where she was and who she was with. It wasn't working. Her body was still ruling over her mind.

She gasped when she felt his lips brush against hers lightly, his hand tensing slightly on her neck. She opened her eyes. "Does that constitute crossing the line?" he asked her. She nodded; for once in her life she was truly speechless.

He smiled gently and moved in again, and this time he didn't hold back. He kissed her firmly and yet still quite carefully, and she tried to bring herself out of her state of shock to tell him to stop. She was almost horrified when, once she could react, she curled an arm around her neck and pulled him down, kissing him back with passion equal to his.

She felt that fluttering in her stomach return every time his hand changed position on her torso; her body was suddenly acutely responsive to his touch. Her mind and common sense were no longer in control as she revelled in the intimacy she had not experienced in far too long. From the almost hopeless way he was holding her so tightly, she had a feeling he felt just the same.

A low, involuntary moan escaped her as she pulled him even tighter, kissing him fiercely like she wanted to last night. She could not be blamed for this. This was him doing this to her. What was not his fault, though, was her inability to reign herself in. She just kept kissing him; he was giving her no indication that he wanted her to stop. Actually, his arm was tight around her waist, pressing her body into his with no idea of what he was doing to her.

Oxygen-deprived and light headed, she finally stopped kissing him, fearing she might have fainted if she hadn't. "What are you supposed to do when you've been kissed like _that_?!" she gasped out. No man had ever kissed her like that before.

Sense, of course, dictated that she should have run away from him. Her body, and possibly her heart, seemed to have plans of their own. "Are you _trying_ to kill me?" she added when she found herself still breathless. She could feel her pulse in her head, for Christ's sake! "You should warn a woman before you do that!"

He remained silent and he was studying her face. She smiled to herself. She tried to remember the last time she had felt this high, and she couldn't find an experience in the last decade that had left her feeling like this.

"I shouldn't have done that to you," he quietly told her. "It was selfish of me."

"Excuse me, but I didn't stop you, did I?!" she demanded. "We're both adults. And that was kind of what I wanted to do last night," she confessed.

Yet again, all he did was smirk knowingly and reply, "I know."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: This ended up quite long yet again, but it was the only place I felt OK about cutting it off. And it's been stopping me killing my brother and his friend, who are making a hell of a racket throwing things around and watching some pish on the TV at an insane volume. All I can say is I'll be thankful to get shot of him for a while next week.**

**Thanks again to everyone who reads and reviews!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena shut the door behind her in a daze, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. Had she really just kissed Henrik Hanssen? Well, had _he_ really just kissed _her_, as it had actually happened?

It was well past eleven by the time she got back to Keller, and Michael seemed to immediately realise something had happened while she was away. She fixed her face into a bright, although forced, smile, but Michael looked less than convinced. She could feel that she was overheating both with worry over what to tell Michael and the memory of what Hanssen had just done.

She sighed and picked up the phone to chase Mr. Daniels' blood results; Chantelle had tried three times and they hadn't listened. However, Serena Campbell in a bad mood and Chantelle Lane on a happy summer were two _very_ different things. A young man answered the phone, "Lab."

"Yes," Serena drawled. "Three times I have asked Nurse Lane to chase Mr. Daniels' results."

"Nurse Lane?"

"Yeah, remember her? Young, pretty, blonde and too nice for her own good? She, unfortunately, is too polite to set about you for your extreme inefficiency, but I don't feel the need to be overly polite to people who seem unable to do their jobs. So, if Mr. Daniels' results are not on Keller Ward in fifteen minutes, you will have myself and Mr. Hanssen to deal with, and I can assure you we will not be as forgiving as Nurse Lane. Do I make myself clear?" she finished.

"Yes, Ms. Campbell," the young man said, and the small, sadistic part of Serena took some pleasure in hearing she had frightened him into submission. "I'll send them up as soon as possible."

"Good."

She put the phone down before he could answer her. "Wow," a familiar American drawl uttered behind her. "Well, you are all sunshine and smiles today, aren't you?" he said.

"Shut it."

Undeterred, he continued, "I'm guessing your meeting with the big man didn't go too well?" She turned to glare at him. "He _is_ still alive, isn't he?"

"I am many things, Michael," she said, "but a murderer isn't one of them. Yet."

"So he's still got a pulse then?"

"Just."

"Yeah, he does look a little bit..." Michael trailed away. Serena's head snapped around to see Hanssen stepping out of the lift; he looked like how she felt. Embarrassed by his reaction, annoyed with himself and guilty as hell. And then he looked at her and she couldn't break the connection his gaze held. "Just ignore him," Michael advised. "Killing him is _not_ a wise career move."

"Neither is being dead," she muttered, rather enjoying keeping up this charade up. She was, however, wondering why Michael was so quickly siding with her. He was nothing if not fair, and he hadn't even heard what Henrik had to say before he had taken Serena's side.

She watched Henrik approach the nurses' station and found she did not have the first clue what to say to him. She could barely look at him without remembering the feel of his lips against hers. "How are you Ms. Campbell?" he asked, and she couldn't help but see that sparkle in his eyes as he said it. He was tormenting her, and he knew it.

"Fine," she snapped. "Don't worry. I don't have any liquids on me at the moment, poisonous or otherwise," she smirked.

"I'm glad to see you have calmed your temper," he remarked, and Serena sense Michael was torn between wanting to hide and not wanting to leave them alone in case a serious crime was committed.

She grinned and retorted, "You've finally proved the theory that unnecessary sex is a bad idea." He gave her a blank, confused look so she elaborated, "Not only can it cause problems within existing, platonic, relationships, but it _could_ kill you. We put our bodies through hell and back when we have sex," she continued, pleased to see him looking uncomfortable. "Pupils dilate, blood pressure shoots up into space somewhere, heart rate goes insane, arteries contract, core temperature increases, respiration becomes fast and shallow, secretions spit out of each and every gland, the brain shoots electrical impulses from nowhere to absolutely nowhere and the muscles tense and spasm like you're lifting three times your body weight." She stepped around the nurses' station to his side and added, "It's ugly. It's violent. It's messy. And if it wasn't so _incredibly_ fun, the human race wouldn't have lasted very long."

The look on his face was something to behold; he appeared rather stunned by her reply. Michael, still behind her, could no longer contain his amusement and fell back into a chair in fits of laughter. "And it destroys what were once half-decent working relationships. Thanks for reminding me never to make the mistake of getting _involved_ with a man I work with ever again."

She strode away with the satisfaction of stunning Henrik Hanssen into total silence, and went to meet a porter with an envelope: Mr. Daniels' results. "Thank you," she smiled, and the porter seemed rather relieved he had not been berated. He had obviously been warned by the lab that she was in a bad mood, but Serena knew it was not the messengers that needed shot.

It was at half-past five that she sat in her newly repaired car and contemplated today; well, he had stunned her by kissing her, so she had returned the favour by making a wise crack. In front of Michael. The whole ward.

Smiling to herself at the turn today had taken, she set off home. She had very little to do; Hanssen had given her no reports to do and Eleanor was away and not due back until eleven. Of course, the housework did need done, but she hated doing it.

"Better than being bored," she muttered to herself, resolving to make beans on toast and then proceed to clean her neglected house. The former was out of sheer laziness in the absence of having to cook for Eleanor.

When she got out of her car and picked up her bag and realised she had forgotten her laptop. It was a good thing she had no reports then, although she had been thinking of wasting time on YouTube and looking at dresses she didn't have the confidence to wear – an unfortunate habit of hers.

An hour and a half later she was wearing a pair of pink pyjamas, having had her dinner and a shower, and was standing on a dining chair cleaning the living room window. "..._you make me glo-o-o-o-w; but I cover up, won't let it sho-o-o-o-w_;" she sang loudly, barely hearing herself over the volume of the speakers playing it. "_So I'm putting my defences up; 'cause I don't wanna fall in love; if I ever did that, I think I'd have a heart atta-a-a-a-_"

She felt a hand on her back and jumped in fright, straight back into whoever was behind her. "Bloody hell!" she shouted, when she was helped off the chair to find Henrik Hanssen standing next to her. She scrambled for the remote and turned the speaker off. "Don't they knock in Sweden?!" she demanded furiously.

"I did knock," he answered. "I'm not entirely surprised you didn't hear me," he added, nodding towards the speaker dock on the shelf.

"Why are you even here?" she asked him, throwing the duster and Windowlene onto the sofa.

"To make sure you were still alive. Loud music and no answer to the door only ever mean one thing in a movie, after all," he smirked.

"But this isn't a movie," she reminded him. "Why did you even come in the first place?"

He pointed to the coffee table, where her laptop now lay. "I thought you might be wanting that."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I could have done without for just one night. But thank you anyway," she smiled. She was suddenly conscious that she was in pyjamas, she was wearing absolutely no make up and he had heard her singing at the top of her voice to Demi Lovato. Oh. That explained the amused smirk on his face then. "Coffee?" she offered, mainly so she could regain her composure in private. "On second thoughts, you make the coffee. I'll go and change into something...respectable."

"You're fine as you are," he dismissed her insecurity. "It is, after all, your home."

"But-"

"No buts," he cut her off. "You do not change yourself in your own home just because someone else has come in."

"Oh," she said, slightly surprised that he held that outlook on the matter. "In that case, sit down and I'll go and make you some coffee." She padded through to the kitchen, remembering now that she was wearing her grey slippers with the bunny ears, as if she was wasn't already embarrassed enough. "Well," she sighed, flicking the kettle on. "You made a right mess of that."

When she returned with the two mugs, she found him standing in the same spot as the other night, looking at exactly the same photograph. She handed him his coffee and demanded, "What is it with you and that picture?"

He set it down and did not answer, though his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. She chucked the window cleaner and cloth onto the table next to her laptop and they sat on the sofa together in silence for a few minutes as Serena tried to work out where to go with this situation. The last time they had sat here had not been so complicated. Yes, they had still been playing their little joke, and there had been a slight attraction to him, but they had not acted on any of it. Today, though, they had snogged like teenagers in his office and then proceeded to spend the rest of the day bickering like toddlers.

"Why did you bother going out of your way to get my laptop to me? You know I didn't need it," she pointed out.

"Not for work, but I thought you would have liked to use it for other things. For all I know, you could have been planning to order groceries or download music or write some sort of story..." he trailed away, each suggestion less likely than the last.

"Me," she snorted. "Writing?"

"You can be quite poetic when you want to be," he retorted. She just stared at him, barely believing what she was hearing. "What?"

She paused for a moment before deciding to avoid the question. "So. What is it about that photograph, then?"

He didn't answer for a moment but was studying the picture from across the room. "The idea of a happy Serena Campbell is rather foreign to me. It intrigues me," he admitted.

"Are you saying I'm not happy?"

He turned his gaze to hers, and she realised the look she was giving him was really quite hostile. "Contented, perhaps," he allowed. "But I wouldn't say you were happy."

"I could say the same about you," she retorted nervously. He had seen further into her mind than she had realised if he realised that she wasn't as happy with her life as she let on. She decided to change the subject again, hoping that it would not turn into him analysing her for a third time in as many minutes. "You do realise we'll have to come clean about our little joke sooner or later?"

He drank from his mug and replied, "Yes. But it's too much fun to end it just yet." She grinned and took a sip of her own coffee, once again admiring his sense of humour. Though he never let it show, it was becoming apparent he was mischievous and perhaps slightly wicked. She noticed he was looking her up and down, and that he found something interesting. "Those pyjamas really are something," he commented. "As are the slippers."

"Shut up," she grinned into her cup.

"Happily."

She sighed to herself. This making small talk was no use to anyone. Dancing around what happened this morning was not helpful. She had learned a long time ago that ignoring the issues between two people never did any good. She put her mug down on the coffee table and took his from him, doing the same with it. "What are we doing, Henrik?"

"Sitting in your living room," he answered. "And I _was_ drinking coffee."

"You know what I mean," she accused. "Messing with everyone, messing with each other, messing with ourselves..." she trailed away. "How long can we keep this up before we hurt each other? How do we deal with all of this?"

He looked down at his hands for a few seconds, and she knew he was attempting to construct an answer. He surprised her when he finally said, "We do what we really want to do."

To her slight embarrassment, it was all the encouragement she needed to lean across the sofa to him and take his face in her hands. She kissed him lightly and cautiously, waiting for him to respond. He put his hand on her back, the other caught in her hair and kissed her back, fiercer than she dared to.

She felt him pull away and he said to her, "Twice in one day?"

"You started it."

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


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